Complications of the Simple Life
by TheWaiter
Summary: When the new guy came to Mineral Town, he broke the cycle, he seperated the town from the normal way they lived their lives, and became irregular. Written for Harvest Moon: FoMT.
1. Chapter One: Arrival

**Authors Note: I play Friends of Mineral Town, Boy Version.**

**Chapter One: Arrival**

"_Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest." – Mark Twain_

The moment I had stepped off the ferry, I knew the town would be good for me.

It was small, insanely so, with maybe seven or eight houses in the town section, crowded in the middle of a plot of land.

The rest of the area was acres upon acres, miles upon miles of… nothing.

Nothing, Nada, Zip, zilch. Empty. Forestry.

Funnily enough, it reminded me of Max. The reminder led to memories of the old man, and again I began to wonder what had happened to him. Surely, if he had been able to, he would've written me. I mean, he was like the father that _liked_ me, right?

I took a deep breath, and looked around. It was near five in the morning, so I didn't expect anyone to be here welcoming me.

I looked to my little puppy. She was curiously looking at her new surroundings, sniffing the air with a hint of anticipation. I grinned at her, and then started up the beach.

* * *

I stood there, looking around me, stunned into silence. 

He's gone. Just… gone.

When nobody answered my third knock, I gave up. I contented myself with staring around his farm. It seemed … well, messy was an understatement. It looked like a _tornado_ hit it!

Weeds were popping up, wherever branches and small boulders (on a farm, clearly unusual) didn't take up space. I tugged on a weed, and was surprised at how easily it gave way and snapped from the ground. I stood there, holding it, and pondered.

_Maybe he was seeing family._

But he said in his letter a few months ago that he had no remaining family. His sister, June, passed away a while back.

_Maybe he was out._

Again, I ruled it out. He had said his back had been acting up, and he had to rely on a man named Gotz to buy his seeds and animal food. He had barely enough energy to feed the chickens anymore.

Suddenly, I realized that there were no sounds. No clucking, no mooing, no busy, farm-animal sounds I remember from when I was eleven. I found it strange, that a man who was out and about to own a farm devoid of animals.

"Hey!"

Startled, I whipped around, hiding the weed behind my back, to face a little red top hat. Lowering my gaze a little, I was standing in front of a short man with an elaborate mustache, stretching across his upper lip. What little neck I could see was covered by a yellow bow tie, which was half covered by a red petticoat.

All in all, I assumed he was either an overly stylish man, or an overly pompous man. I had the feeling that it was the latter.

I also had a feeling that this was the "Mayor Thomas" Max had spoken of.

"The owner of this farm died a while back. You can't just come waltzing in here!"

His words sent a jolt through my limbs.

So my instinct was right. Max died.

Inside, I died a little with him.

In a hoarse voice, I whispered, "I knew him."

The man's beet red visage melted into a slightly mournful expression. "What? You knew him?"

All I could manage was a nod, my thoughts still spinning.

The man was pale now. "And… And you didn't know that he died…?"

I nodded again, slowly, as the mayor's featured into a mask of sincerity and sadness.

"He died about… Oh, six months ago, I reckon."

My eyes widened. His last letter had come _four_ months ago. Before I could voice this, the mayor continued. "When I was cleaning out his place, I found his will."

I watched as he searched his pockets, his hand coming out with a crumpled and slightly yellowish piece of paper. He handed it to me, but my hands wouldn't work, still clutching at the weed I had pulled out behind my back. Max… was gone.

The mayor seemed to understand, putting the will back into his petticoat pocket. He said something that I didn't quite catch.

"So," he sighed, "until whoever that is shows up, I'm taking care of the farm. Along with getting the hydrant fixed…"

My ears perked up. "What did you say?"

"The fire hydrant. It shot water at poor young Ann a week ago. Nearly scared her to death, not to mention soaked her to the bone."

"No, not about the fire hydrant," I said quietly. "Who's going to show up?"

The mayor looked confused for a second, and then it seemed to dawn on him. "Oh! Uh…" He dug around in his pockets for a second, and extracted the yellowish tinged paper. "…Ah! This… Alexander Canning. So, until this guy shows up…"

My heart stopped. I had a place to stay…

"That's me." My mouth muttered.

"What's that, dear boy?"

"I'm Alexander Canning."

"You say that _you're _the boy old Max left the farm to?"

I smiled sadly and nodded.

"Thank the goddess! My name is Mayor Thomas, dear boy, and it is a _pleasure_ to meet you!"

I shook hands with the mayor, smile still in place, thoughts elsewhere. Already, I was thinking what I would do with the farm. The field would take a couple of weeks to clear, some boulders would need removing… maybe a good hammer would do it, or perhaps a horse and pulley…? And I would need a good knife, or even a sickle, or maybe an axe, to get those weeds out of the way. Suddenly, I was itching to find out what tools Max had left, if he had left anything at all.

"Will you tell me how you met the old man…?"

With a start, I looked back towards Thomas. Adjusting my cap so it was firmly over my eyebrows, I grunted.

_Alex,_ chided a voice in my head, _what would Mom think of you, acting unfriendly to a man who has only shown you kindness? Suck it up, and tell him._

I smiled slightly, apologetically. "Well, we were vacationing from big bad Detroit, and Mom wanted to go somewhere grand, like a beach or something. On the way there, the car broke down, and we found ourselves here…"

* * *

"Aren't you glad you came on the trip, Zander?" Mom questioned, that smile lighting up her face. 

My mother was beautiful. She had long brown hair, dark eyes and the world's most beautifying smile. I loved that smile, the smile that said, quite plainly, _don't change, Zander. You are my world._

I almost wanted to say no, just to back up the fit I threw before we left, but the truth was that I _was_ having fun. I had a lot of time with my folks, and back then they were so happy together.

"Yeah, I want to see the fireworks. Want to, Zander?" Dad had said, smiling.

But I wasn't listening, I was staring.

A girl with pigtails was grinning at me, like a wolf. Like someone wanting to play.

I had no interest in fireworks. I wanted to see this girl, this priceless, porcelain girl, who obviously wanted to talk to me.

So I left.

Somehow, I had wound up on Max's farm, scared and confused.

It was the number scrawled on my backpack that had saved me from a life of… happiness, I guess. I'm pretty sure that Max would have let me stay with him, and if I had known that those three days playing with chickens and talking to _her_ would be a prelude to what would happen on the trip home, I would have stayed.

But in the end, I went back with my parents. And everything changed.

I'm not sure exactly _how_ the truck hit our tiny car, but when it did, the effect was immediate.

I was flung _out_ of the car's windshield as the truck plowed into us from behind. Dad's face smashed into the horn, and the continual _beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep_ still haunts my dreams.

A metal sheet the truck was carrying decapitated mom immediately. She died instantly. Her life ended.

And my hell began. Dad became distant, and started drinking. Two years later, he beat me for the first time. Three more years until I was able to retaliate. And a long two weeks in Juvenile hall, while my father was in the hospital.

Sometimes I wish I had never came out.

If you think our fights weren't bad, check with the neighbors. Fists were often thrown, yells and curses were exchanged, and it ended when either I left or he passed out – either by my hand or his.

A couple months at my aunts, and things were better. Instead of getting bitter and resentful, I completed school, always writing Max, always listening to Mom's voice of reason.

But, of course, I didn't reveal this to the mayor. The story I told him was of the three days of bliss on the farm. Chasing chickens, riding cows and horses, playing games with _her._

Pure bliss.

* * *

The mayor regarded me sadly. "So, when he stopped writing, you came to check on him?" 

I nodded. "A week without a reply from Max was unusual. Three and I started to worry. After four months, I decided to check on him.

The mayor nodded, and smiled at me.

"So, it needs a lot of work." He said, spreading his arm around the small farm. "Do you think you're up for it?"

I looked at him, a slow smile spreading on my face.

"Oh, yeah. I'm up for it."

* * *

A/N: Reviews are very good things, so good in fact, that I'd like to see more of them. 


	2. Chapter Two: Eye Contact

**Authors Notes: Karen is an outrageous flirt.**

**Chapter Two: Eye Contact**

_"It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes." – Douglas Adams_

It felt weird for me to sleep in a bed that I had known wasn't mine.

I'm sure I felt Max there, but a part of me kept thinking that it was wrong to move in to Max's place, that it was wrong to inhabit the memory that was Max.

In his letters, he had seemed immortal, pushing ninety and still writing with zeal.

He'd explain some mundane task at the farm, and make it sound fun. He made feeding Charlie (his horse) seem like an event to pay for. He never spoke of the other villager's interactions, save Gotz' brief conversations with him.

I lay awake, thinking of Max and how he'd saved me a little with every letter. How I'd written back, talking about the little fight's I'd get in at school, about Dad's behaviour. I'd never told him about the late-night brawls, about having a beer bottle thrown at me once, when I was sixteen, and how I'd gotten my baseball bat out and threatened to break his legs.

Max received the news, and suggested I move out as soon as possible. He even requested that I stay with him for a while.

I lay awake, thinking of Max, and soon, I was asleep.

* * *

_The screech of tires, a gasp from the passenger seat, and the truck was hitting us again._

_I sat in the back, eleven-years old, staring as Dad smashed into the horn, breaking the steering wheel, his face, and causing the horn to honk continually._

_It honked when Mom got decapitated._

_It honked when I was thrown from the seat moments after._

_It honked when Dad was pulled, unconscious from the car, his face a bloody mess of bone and bruises._

_It continued to honk when my mother was pulled from the car, and when I stared silently._

_The Image shifted. Dad, lying on the couch, yelling that I'd never be a football player, that I was too scrawny. Images of me, lifting weights, punching Eddie Crawford in the face, beating John Poronick because he had burned my favourite hat._

_Me yelling at Dad, saying I hated him. Dad slapping me. Our numerous fights over the years, all swirling images._

When I woke up, I moved to the floor. Maggie, my sweet little puppy, curled up on my chest as I dozed off, dreamless, but wary.

* * *

The next day, after a brief lecture from Zack, a gigantic man with an army-style haircut, I decided to view the plot of land that I was to make into a flourishing farm. 

My first stop was the Chicken coop, with Maggie in tow. Together, we examined it, taking note of the musty walls, what needed to be cleaned, and what could stay the same. I checked the Barn next, and finally the stable, smelling of horse musk and mould.

After confirming that there were no animals on this farm, and briefly wondering where they all went, I decided to get to work.

I went into the house, and dug around in the toolbox for a scythe, a hammer, and an axe.

After three hours of cutting weeds, smashing rocks, chopping branches, and staring hopelessly at a boulder twice my height, the field was almost a quarter clear. Several pieces of rubble just wouldn't _die_, no matter how many times I hit it with blade or mallet.

Frustrated, I glanced at my watch, to discover that it was almost 2 pm.

_Well,_ I thought. _That's enough work for one day, I suppose._

I went into the house, and pulled a blue T-shirt over my black tank top.

_I'm going to need materials. Might as well go into town, and figure out where everything is. Wouldn't hurt to be friendly to the townspeople, right? Might pick up a thing or two._

Adjusting my cap over my eyebrows, I set out.

* * *

As soon as I walked into town, a woman with short black hair, and small blue eyes ambushed me. Immediately, she started talking fifty miles an hour. 

"Oh, hello! You must be the new boy in town!"

"Er-"

"My name is Manna, a pleasure to meet you. Me and my husband Duke run the Aja winery. Oh, I must show you around, the days are so short! I shouldn't waste so much time talking to Duke in the morning, I swear, he talks far too much! Oh, follow me, young man! No, wait, here-" She linked her arm through mine. I was a little dazed. "Now, come along!"

We hurried through the town, Manna providing commentary on all the buildings, a brief history, who built them, who lived in them, and who was dating whom.

I saw the Inn ("Doug and that little red-haired brat- what's her name? She's _so_ rude – live there. Doug lost his wife a while back- the poor dear."), the library ("Mary lives there. She's sweet, but shy. I think she likes that young man who works at the smithy shop,") the Yodel farm ("Barley and that little girl May live there. May spends way too much time with that little boy- oh, what is his _name_- and poor Barley is fed up with it all.") And the Poultry farm ("That's Lillia's place. The poor dear has been sick for years. She has two brat kids, to top it all off.").

All this was explained in about – oh, say, twenty minutes?

I was finally rescued by a man with brown hair walking straight into me. Stunned, I reared back, and my connection with Manna was broken. Manna immediately launched into a tirade of insults, seeming to call the man selfish, and egotistical. All the while she talked, the man and me sized each other up.

He had a mane of a beard, and squinty eyes. He was wearing an entirely too small white T-shirt, showing off his powerful arms. I adjusted my hat a little, squinting right back at him.

"Sorry," he muttered, and walked briskly off.

Manna looked a little taken aback by him, and then whispered to me, "That's Gotz. Best be staying away from him, he's a little bit… screwy."

"Ah." was my reply.

Manna then let out a gasp, as if a thorn had pricked her. "Oh. My. Gosh. Look at the time! Well, I'd better go! Too da loo!"

I started to ask where I could find the supermarket, but thought better of it.

Can you blame me?

* * *

"Karen!" A voice broke through my thoughts. 

I stopped arranging seeds and looked up. "What?"

Dad looked at me, seeming surprised that I had heard him. "_Finally._ I thought there was nobody home."

I rolled my eyes and he smirked. "I need you to go get our shipment of seeds from the back, please."

"What'd your last slave die of?" I shot at him.

"Overwork, why?" He shot back, still smirking.

"Dork." I muttered as I walked to the back, where the delivery truck was. Zack was already unloading it.

"Hey, Kare. How are you?" He said, while heaving big boxes filled with green bags.

"Not too bad, Zack. Yourself?" I watched his muscles strain as he piled the boxes on a cart. He was pretty hot, I guess. Too old, but still…

"I'm doing great." He replied calmly as he finished piling the last box. As I pushed the cart towards the loading door, he walked beside me. We chatted idly about little things, Duke's new mortgage, how many shipments Zack had to do, et cetera, et cetera.

"Oh, hey, have you seen the new guy?" Zack asked suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"The new guy. What's his name… Canning. He works on the farm now."

I began to become curious. "Canning? What an odd name…"

Zack nodded. "Yeah, he's from Michigan. Detroit, I think. Big city kid. Little shorter than me, blue cap, average size…"

"No…" I said slowly, pushing the cart into the back room. "No, I haven't seen him."

"Oh, well, you should check him out. He seems nice."

"Maybe I will." I mumbled, intent on going back to my 'work'.

"Hey, aren't you going to sort those?" Zack said, indicating the cart of seeds.

I smiled, and batted my eyelashes at him. "No." I said sweetly, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

"Uh… oo…kay." Zack managed, and fled to the safety of the truck.

I smiled. So being attractive had its advantages. Sue me.

As I walked back into the supermarket, my thoughts occupied on seeing Rick tomorrow, I stopped suddenly.

My dad was talking to someone… about twenty, I'd say. He was of medium build, maybe six feet tall, with a blue cap turned backwards. His voice was low, but not quite as low as Zack's or Gotz's. A little lower than dads. He suddenly captivated me, and I strained to hear what he said.

"Okay… how about Cucumber seeds?" At the thought of cucumbers, images filled my mind. Bad images. Involving Cucumber shaped… oh, down Karen _down._

"We do have those. 200 g's."

The new guy (did Zack call him Canning?) mumbled something, and then reached into the back pocket of his jeans. I couldn't help but notice that the knees were dirty, seeming as though he did a lot of kneeling in the past hour or so.

"Here." Said Blue-hat, handing over three bills. "Two, please."

"Would you like them bagged, or pouched?"

Blue cap grinned at him a moment, and then said. "Which is harder to open?"

Dad smiled right back, and started going on about the materials they use for pouches, and bags were a waste of resources. Blue-hat looked actually… interested, while Dad talked.

"Hey Karen!" Mary, beaming, suddenly blocked my vantage point.

"Mary, move!" I hissed. She looked confused for a second, and stepped lightly to the side, intent on seeing what I was.

"Hey, is that…?"

"New guy." I grunted.

"Cute."

"Yep."

"What's he buying?"

I smiled at her. "Cucumbers."

I could see immediately that she had the same… thoughts that I had, and we both giggled a little.

And then, to our absolute mortification, he spotted us. And smiled.

Mary flushed, but I smiled right back, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

His grin widened a little, and he turned to receive his pouches from Dad. "Thanks, Jeff." He said.

"No problem, Alex. See you around?"

"Definitely." With another glance in our direction, he left.

Mary immediately squealed. "Oh. My. God. Karen, he looked at you! He smiled!"

I nodded, grinning like an idiot.

"He digs you."

We both whirled to see the new voice. Harris, the local cop, smiled at us both.

"Jealous?" I said, tossing my hair for the third time that day.

"Terribly." He said, his smile growing wider.

I looked at him, with a gleam in my eye. "Do something about it." I said, as seductively as possible. And then I walked into the back.

* * *

It was nearing Four o'clock, and I had my shopping done. After confirming that I could buy chickens, and that I could upgrade my hammer, sickle, and axe, I was ready to work. Sort of. 

I had been at my farm for about… fifteen minutes, sitting on a stump that absolutely _refused_ to be chopped up, feeling more than a little sorry for myself. And I was a little shocked to see the complete lack of power tools in Max's inventory.

I mean, would it _kill_ the guy to get a simple ride em lawnmower? It would make it _loads_ easier to work. Like driving a car, except without brakes or a stick shift. And really, who needs a stick shift and brakes anyways? In Detroit, I had forgotten they were there half the time. Unless I needed to reverse or, you know, stop, they were non-existant.

I was surprised at how little I missed the city. Maybe it was because there was nothing there for me, nothing that I could describe as "home".

I looked up at the sky, smiling a little. I was definitely going to like it here.

As soon as I got this damned field cleared.

* * *

A/N: I don't like this chapter as much as the first one... but hey, gotta get the ball rolling. Drop me a line through the reviews and let me know what you think. 


	3. Chapter Three: Elbow Grease

**Author's Note: Popuri, anyone? It's considered a delicacy to chicken farmers.**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Elbow Grease**

_"I'm not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a PART of hell will break loose... it'll be much harder to detect" – George Carlin_

* * *

**Rick:**

I stared at my plate.

The green thing stared back at me.

"Oh, come _on_, Rick. Eat it!" Popuri said, grinning like the devil.

"Eat it? I wouldn't _spit_ on it!"

"It's good for you."

"It looks like my vomit."

"It isn't _that_ bad."

"Yes… Yes, it certainly is _that _bad."

Popuri sighed. "Well, at least _try_ it." She said with a little pout.

I sighed. I can't resist her when she looks at me with puppy dog eyes.

I cautiously scooped some of the sludge into my spoon, and raised it to eye-level, examining for chunks of carrots or something. Popuri rolled her eyes slightly. Slowly, I put the spoon towards my mouth, opened wide, and stuck it in-

"Rick! Karen's here!"

I immediately threw the spoon down on my plant. "Sorry, Po. Gotta run."

"But-"

"I'll cook tomorrow, okay? See you around!"

Popuri sighed as I booked it downstairs. Karen was waiting for me, leaning against the doorway.

"Hi Karen. Just a minute." I said, grabbing my glasses off the counter.

"So," she said once we were out the front door. "How've you been?"

"Busy. Lots of travelers come by the Poultry farm now to get their chicken feed and stuff." I paused, sensing there was something she wanted to talk about. "Why?"

"Just… you know… wondering. That's all."

I nodded slowly, and checked my watch. 6:30 pm. Something was definitely… wrong. Well, maybe not wrong, but something was up.

I don't know how I met Karen. I think it was when I was six or so, and my dad and her dad were good friends. We grew up together, Karen and I. Over the years, she's proved to be an amazing friend, and a great person.

I'm pretty sure I've been a good friend too.

But now, I felt a little concerned, because Karen usually doesn't hide anything. She's a bold spirit, who says what she thinks and to hell with anyone who doesn't like it. It's not her nature to hide things.

"Karen." I said, a bit forcefully. Her green eyes met my blue ones. "Karen, what's up?"

I kicked myself mentally. _What's up? You dork…_

Karen gave me an odd look. "Well… I've been working at the supermarket lately… and been really busy myself."

I nodded, waiting her out. She looked uncomfortable, as if she didn't want to talk to me tonight. She also looked radiant, but that wasn't anything new. Her blonde hair glinted in the setting sun, her eyes were a clear green, and her voice was the voice of angels. If I were a songwriter, or even a painter, she would be my star, my object of inspiration, my light in the world…

"There's a new guy in town." She blurted, her words forming together.

I smiled to myself. "Ah." I said.

"Yeah… and… well, this town is so _boring_, and someone new…" She looked at me, imploring. "I think we should give him a grand welcome."

I sighed, taking off my glasses and rubbing them on my shirt. "What kind of welcome?" Karen's grand schemes were something that I never got tired of. She positively lit up when she thought of them.

"Well… I was thinking, we haven't had a town party in a long time… why don't we throw one as a greeting?"

I shook my head. "Duke will get you drunk again."

Karen opened her mouth, and then closed it. "Point taken."

"Look, Karen." I said, smiling. "Let him get to know the town, the people, and everything before he gets rolling into parties. Okay?"

"But… it would be so… _fun!_" Karen said, grinning like the devil. I grinned right back.

"In a week or two. I promise I'll help set it up."

"Okay…" Karen said, swinging her legs on the bench. "So, how's Po?"

* * *

**Alex:**

The axe came down hard in my hands, heading straight for the stump.

And it bounced off just as hard.

"Christ…" I muttered, wiping sweat off my face with a cloth.

It had been a couple of days, and I'd managed to clear out much of the weeds and boulders and logs that had been irritating me. Except for Mother Stump, over there, I had done a decent job of clearing it all away.

I examined the stump, taking notice of the little chips here and there that I had managed to make in it. So far, it hadn't yielded, and it seemed determined to break my spirits for this entire farming thing.

My Ipod shuffled to _Hey Yeah – Acoustic_, and I grinned. I always loved this song back home. Nowadays, it seemed too… modern. For my current surroundings, that is.

I decided to take a short break from stump smacking, and went over to my chicken coop. There I picked up a plank that I had set down earlier, and began nailing it up, fixing the holes in the back. Some stray dog must've come in here and chewed it to bits. There were gashing holes in the back, and Maggie kept running up to it, sniffing it, and running away, so something was definitely up.

I sang along softly to the chorus, careful to avoid hitting my thumb with the hammer. _See, dad?_ I thought bitterly. _I can do a "man's" work. Hell, I can do it better than you ever could._

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over me, blocking my sunlight. I turned, and was face to face with a pink haired girl.

I stared at her blankly, and saw her lips move. To me, she looked like she just said, "What's cooler than being cool?"

I quickly realised that I still had my ear buds in.

Taking them out, and going fairly red, I smiled at her. "Sorry, didn't catch that."

She laughed. "No big deal. I just wanted to welcome you to Mineral Town." She grinned at me. "You… ARE the new boy, right?"

"Yeah. That's me." I said sticking my hand out. "Alex." I said.

She shook my hand daintily. A soft grip. "I'm Popuri." She grinned. "My mom runs the Chicken shop here, just down the road." She pointed. Her smiles seemed often, and contagious. She had one of those gravitational smiles… the ones that made you want to smile right back…

I had to shake myself. Man, was I going soft or what?

"So… this is Max's farm?" She said, glancing around.

"Yeah… it sure is." I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

She pointed. "You missed a stump."

Damn stump. "Yeah, I figured I'd get to work on that later. I still have to fix up the place and start planting, before I begin on landscaping." I said. She smiled.

"You look like you've been worked to the bone, Alex. You sure drive yourself hard."

"It sure is a lot of work." I said, smiling a little.

"More than you expected?" She asked, tilting her head like a puppy.

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Yeah…" I said softly. "Yeah. A lot more work than I expected. But hey, hard work never killed anyone, right?"

"As far as the universe knows, no, it didn't." She said simply. She pointed to my I-pod. "What's that?"

"This? Oh… It's my I-Pod." I held it up to her. "My personal music device."

"I see." Popuri said, looking at it. "Can I listen?"

"Uh… sure." I said, handing her one of the buds. She placed it in her ear and closed her eyes.

My eyes drifted back to the task I was working on. Just two more planks to go, and then I was done the chicken coop. Next, the barn roof was drooping, (some planks and a few screws would fix that) the stable needed cleaning, (a shovel and gloves) and seeds needed planting. And Mother Stump needed to be removed. I was determined to get that thing out of here, one way or another-

"Who sings this?" She suddenly said, pointing to the I-pod. I looked at it.

"Matt Weddle. It's originally from Outkast, but he sang a cover and the world fell in love." I said, squatting to continue nailing.

"I see. He's good."

"He's very good. I listened to that song on repeat when I was back home." I said, hammering away.

She went silent for a second, and when I was just finishing the final board she spoke up again. "I'm sorry if this is rude, but… it just seems… weird to me, that a city boy would want to live out _here._ I mean, did you hate the city _that_ much?"

I straightened. "You're right," I said, finishing my nailing, "that was very rude."

"I'm sorry, Alex. I just… why would you bother?"

I hit the last nail much harder than necessary, and it cracked the wood a little. "Maybe the 'city boy' likes this life better than the city. Maybe he has baggage." I straightened to face her. "Maybe Max was a better father to him than his own dad was. Maybe he likes farming and pig snot as apposed to trash talking and being locked out." I said, standing. "Or, maybe he just likes working to the bone and the quiet of a small town." I smiled at her. "Thanks for dropping by, Popuri, but I really need to get back to work."

She nodded. "I'm sorry… for butting in." She said, handing me my I-pod back. "I… guess I'll see you around." She said, turning to go.

"Popuri." I said, stilling her walk.

"Yes?" She said, her head turning.

I was silent, embarrassed for expressing my frustration. "I'll see you later." I said, smiling a little. "After I've settled, I'll need chickens."

She grinned. "Okay." She said, and walked away, with a light, bouncy motion.

I shook my head, and walked over to the barn. There was a roof to fix.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay, folks! But I'm proud of this little chapter. Things are starting to slowly get rolling in Alex's little life. Still not decided on the ships, yet, so keep reading. For the three readers who put me on their alert list; my sincere apologies. I'll do better next time. Scouts Honor. Please Read and Review!

Updated Friday, December 14, 2007.


	4. Chapter Four: Old Friends 1

**Author's Note: I had to consult Google for the Detroit street names. Believe me, they are legit.**

Chapter Four: Old Friends(part 1 of 2)

"_I don't want to achieve immortality through my work – I want to achieve it through not dying." - Woody Allen_

* * *

**Alex**

I awoke from my nightmare, back against the hardwood, groaning. It had been vivid, this time. The car, spinning, the metal sheet, the continual _beeeeeep_…

Was I forever doomed to walk through life, the sound of the car horn ringing in my eardrums?

I slumped back onto the make shift bed. In the past three days, I had learned that sleeping in the bed made me feel… awkward. Knowing that Max slept there, the years that we had exchanged letters… I couldn't sleep there.

So I made a small bed out of moth-bitten comforters, bed sheets, and pillows.

Nobody was happier about this than Maggie.

I woke up yesterday with her on my face. Today, she contented herself with sleeping with her snout at my temple, her nose at my ear, wetting it.

I wiped cold sweat from my face and checked the time.

4:51 AM.

Oh, _damn_ my nightmares.

Careful not to wake my puppy, I stood and walked over to the small kitchen table. There I ate an egg roll and some chocolate milk, which had been handed to me with a large grin from Jeff, the grocery store owner.

I don't know how long I sat there, staring out of the darkened window, letting my mind wander back to the streets of Detroit. My hell, my heaven, at times. There were a lot of memories there. I didn't want to lose them.

* * *

I remember Rex and Mark, my two best friends. We'd go drinking together, Mark, the quiet, nerdy one, Rex, the loud, and handsome one, and me, the shrimpy, mysterious… Cool, one, as the labels would say. Rex always grinned a lot and winked at pretty girls, while Mark blushed and hid behind his napkin. I bee lined for the bar, getting hammered and grinning at the bartender before slumping and passing out.

Sometimes I'd last hours, sometimes minutes, depending on how my father and I had argued that morning.

The bartender was a young woman, late twenties, always with her arms open to youngsters drinking. At first, in our perverted minds, we thought it was because she digged us. But in the end, it was because she wanted that little extra cash. Get them hooked early, and they're hooked for life.

We eventually saw through her scheme, but by then Rex had gotten a little moodier, and Mark had found another addiction. I kept walking through those doors, not drinking, just watching, and laughing at the antics of drunks.

Despite the popular belief that I was an idiot, I was the only one out of our motley crew of three that finished High School. Coincidentally enough, I'm also the only one who's been thrown into Juvvie.

After I got out, I learned that Mark was in Rehab, and Rex was there to pick me up from the train station.

I'll never forget the sombre look on his big face, the smile that used to be there replaced with a frown and a bloody lip.

"Zander…" He said, his voice cracking, tears in his eyes.

He took me back to his place, got me something to eat, and told me a tale that haunts me to this day.

* * *

He had been walking on Cass Street, a stuck up, snobby little street, where rich kids played and hard workers got cheated out of money and wives justified their many husbands with sheer boredom.

People from 43rd street; the street that Mark and Rex lived on, weren't welcome there. Several cases of beatings, assault, and rape had gone on between the rival streets.

Rex had walked up the street for one reason; His boyfriend lived at the intersection of Cass and Main, and they had set a small dinner date there.

Rex had enough courage to tell me that he was gay when he was 15. It hadn't bothered me, not really. I'm pretty sure I was the only person who knew until he finally came out of the closet at seventeen, and the school and his parents hated him for it.

So Rex walked along the streets, holding on tightly to his suitcase. Watching the shadows, getting paranoid, and the whole nine yards.

A car drove past. Skidded to a halt. "Hey Faggot!" A voice yelled.

Rex ran for it, dropping his suitcase. He ran as fast as his 240-pound frame could carry him. Car doors slammed, running feet behind him. He skidded around a corner, running down Main now. He felt a rock hit his ear as he ran, away from his boyfriend's house, trying to escape the chasers-

Another car cut him off. A man hopped out, a bat in his hand.

Rex stopped, turned around, and saw another three men there, boxing him in.

They all charged, and he turtled. Three or four minutes later, the beating was over, his face a bloody mess, his ribs bruised, his suitcase was thrown at him, and they all climbed into the car and drove away.

Rex went to his boyfriend's house, war torn and bleeding. The cop investigating the crime took a "who cares?" attitude and waved them off.

This all happened two or three days before my release.

* * *

"This is Bull, Rex!" I had said, after he refused to let me 'take care of them'. "I get into fights, Rex. Not you. These kids… These kids need to be hurt. Badly."

Rex shook his head. "You just got out of jail, Zander. And it's four against one. Use your head for once. You're always jumping in the way whenever a fight's around. This time, stay back. Let the law handle it-"

"They won't handle anything!" I shouted, leaping up. "They never do. It's Detroit, for god sake. Free for all, dog-eat-dog Detroit!"

Rex stood up. "Zander, you're on probation. Go home. Your dad's being released from hospital care around seven. Do you-"

"He doesn't show for my release, I don't show for his." I cut in. Rex nodded soberly.

"Jeff's coming over soon. Go home. Call Mark when you get the chance, okay?"

I nodded. "Rex… thanks for picking me up."

Rex smiled. "Anytime, bro. Go sleep. I bet Juvvie didn't get you good beds."

I half grinned. "See you whenever." I then left, passing Jeff on the way out. He was a big, black man, about six-two and bald.

"Hey." I said. He nodded.

I went home.

* * *

I was shaken from my reverie, my walk down memory lane, by Maggie yawning and stretching. I smiled at her and put some food in her dish.

She ate greedily, making a mess of the floor, and I chugged some coffee and checked the time. 5:47 AM. Time for work.

* * *

Ann

It was an unladylike business, scrubbing Toilets, and I went to the job very reluctantly.

Who was I kidding? I hadn't started. I had been staring down the bowels of the white porcelain for a good ten minutes, just cringing about the total _grossness_ of the task.

Normally, according to village gossip, I would jump at the chance to do anything unladylike or gross, to prove my "tom boyishness". Well, soo_ry_ if I didn't want to be fascinated by ribbons and hair bands and dresses and prom. Prom sucked, dresses are itchy, and ribbons are overrated.

I like cool things, like newts, and building, and architecture. Not marriage and lots of babies.

It was a shame that nobody else my age did. Well, except for the really little guys.

I grabbed the scrub brush and plunged it into the toilet. Hey, the inn needed upkeep, and I was the gal for the job. As my dad always said, anyways.

Halfway through scrubbing, I heard the tinkling of the little bell on the door, signaling that a customer had arrived.

Eager for an excuse to escape my task, I ran towards the door, taking the steps two by two, red ponytail swinging behind me. I skidded in front of the counter, beaming at the new customer.

"Hi! Welcome to the inn! My name is Ann, and I'll be your server this afternoon! Rooms are 35 gold pieces per night, and our menu is behind me- Hey! You're the new boy!" I smiled so hard that my teeth hurt. His cap was backwards, pulled over his eyebrows. His brown eyes examined me a little, and he smiled back.

"Yeah. You must be Ann." He said, leaning over the counter slightly, his hand outstretched.

"Yep!" I said, taking his hand and shaking it. "My dad runs the Inn, and I help out a little. So, what will it be?" I grinned and cocked my head, trying to appear puppy like. Something about this boy made me want to seem cute.

He read the menu, and then shrugged. "Well… I haven't had lunch yet." He said, rubbing his neck. "What would you suggest?"

I shrugged. "The chicken is good. Burgers are usually the standard."

He smiled at me. "Burgers, eh?" He rubbed his stubble gently, looking at the menu.

I looked at him, curiously. He stood about six-one, brown hair, brown eyes, and wore a dirty, grimy set of overalls with a grey shirt. He looked tired, as if he didn't get enough sleep last night. Working the farm must be tough, but he looked just as tough. He had a scar that ran through his eyebrow.

"Where'd you get that?" I blurted, and immediately blushed. His eyes found mine, holding them with an intensity.

"That… That scar." I said… cocking my head. His eyes held mine… and I was lost in the pools. I couldn't look away. He smiled slightly.

"I… tripped." He said, quirking the corner of his mouth. "A while ago."

I smiled back. "Bull." I said simply, then took a menu and pressed it into his hands.

"Take as much time as you need. I'll be right back." I walked quickly up the stairs, around the corner, and leaned against a wall. Oh _gods_, he was cute.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know. Lil more angsty, little more tragic. Well, it'll get better! I promise. And Alex seems to have caught three lovely ladies' eyes. Twill be updated soon! ;) 


End file.
